The Fifth Stage: Missing Moments
by searing light dragon
Summary: Ever wonder what was going through Nathan's mind as he said goodbye to his brother for the last time? I did and thus this is the result. ONE SHOT


**AN: This is my first Heroes fanfiction attempt, be it one-shot for a full lenth fanfic. The final scenes between Nathan and Peter in The Ffith Stage (4X11) touched me quite much when I first watched the scene and thus I've had this idea in my head for some time. All feedback is welcome and this is a Nathan POV.**

**Wthout any further interruption here is:**

**The Fifth Stage: Missing Moments and Nathan's Reflection**

Slowly I fought my way to the surface, aided by Peter's repeated request that I help him out. He didn't understand what I already knew. My brother was still in denial, refusing to accept the truth that I had already made peace with hours before after I had left Pete's apartment, angry and disgusted at Ma.

A soft smile tugged at Peter's bloodied lips as I forced my eyes upward and managed a weak smile of my own. I could already sense the anger that radiated from Sylar towards me, or rather what was left of me.

"Peter." It sounded so formal yet I knew he needed to hear me speak, to confirm that he had done what he had set out to do.

"Is it really you?" Uncertainly played in his words, not that I could blame him really. After all we had gone through, it made sense for him to double-check.

My hands twitched and felt numb with pain but I ignored it as I watched his hazel eyes. "Yeah, it's me."

His smile grew larger and I would have joined him in his excitement had the circumstances that I knew had occurred been tugging at my thoughts. Peter had been so driven to save me, even after everything I had put him through the past year. Building 26 had been my own failure, a self-centered desire to contain those like my brother and I.

It seemed Peter was satisfied with my answer as he began to work at getting the nails in my hands loose. I didn't want to know where else he had nailed Sylar, mostly for my own good. With my brother busy in removing the thin wedges of steel that he had punctured into Sylar's uncooperative body, I found time to dwell upon how I was going to let my brother know that this wasn't me.

I had told him the night after we had found out the truth from Parkman that whoever Nathan Petrelli was didn't exist anymore. I had died months ago, my memories having been kept alive only through Matt's mental manipulation of Sylar after I had already breathed my last breath. Of course Pete hadn't understood back then either. He had asked me if it made any difference, if Matt had truly removed every twisted thought from that head as he put my thoughts in. I had answered that there was no way Matt could remove all of Sylar's memory, yet he had done it, somehow.

Extending a hand to me as he leaned back on his heels, Peter gave me another quickly defused smile. He thought he had done enough to save me, keep Sylar at bay, but it didn't matter. I grabbed his offering hand and he pulled me to my feet, getting to his as well. Blood dripped from his nose as he sniffed and found an overturned discarded locker for us to use as a seat.

I needed no invitation to sit, struggling to keep it together as Sylar stewed in anger and that anger took its toil on me. Peter, likewise, sat as quickly as I had, ramming his unbloodied hand into one of the pockets on his pants in search of something. I glanced down at my right palm as it flipped it up towards me, marveling as only a thin smear of blood was all that remained from having a nail drove through that very skin and bone moments prior.

When Peter removed his hand from the pocket he had been searching in, he came back with two handkerchiefs. Both looked never before used as he passed one to me and wiped his nose with the one he kept. I curled the red cloth into a ball and drabbed at my blood smeared palm, wiping away the trace of the nail having been driven into my hand.

"I'm tired, Pete." My statement came just as I sighed, bringing my eyes over to meet my brother's.

Pete wiped at his nose again, sniffling as he did so. "Yeah, I know."

"No, I mean, I'm tired." My gaze softened, seeking some kind of response from my brother as I continued. "I've been trying to get out, fight my way, and I don't think I can do it anymore. I don't think I can hang on."

I searched his face for some sign of reaction, my eyes holding back the pain quite well. I knew Sylar was annoyed at this but it seemed better to torment him into observing my brotherly bond with Peter than allow him control back just yet.

"Sure you can." Peter finally looked my way, hope shining clear in his eyes. I wasn't as optimistic.

I knew I couldn't fight for much longer. Whatever remained of me was getting overrun by the true owner of the body that I now held claim to for just a little while. My gaze dropped to the floor as my hands settled on my knees. Peter wasn't ready to accept the truth but then again neither was I ready to explain it to him, given I had time to make him understand.

"You know what?" Peter asked, continuing on after a moment. "Let's go get some air. I know just the place."

He stood, offering me his hand again as I took it with a sigh. I wasn't sure where he was leading us to but my mind was otherwise distracted by Sylar's anger once more. His hand pressed gently to my back as we made our way past various ladders and hanging wires that proved this floor was greatly unused.

Sure Peter could have lead me through the hospital but he didn't and instead went up a seemingly endless flight of stairs. My feet dragged as I followed without a word, trying to figure out how to make it as painless as possible for Pete. I didn't want to hurt him by telling him the truth that even I was at peace with but I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold.

By the time we finally stopped our ascent I had curled both of my hands into fists. I knew they were trembling but I had to stay in control for only a while longer. Sylar would have to be patient, a trait I wasn't sure he even had in him.

There was only one exit from our current location, a metal door that looked not that well used. Peter walked toward it after a moment, glancing back at me as he did, and I followed behind. He had taken the lead during our walk up the steps, apparently certain I could manage that on my own. I was humored by the way he was so . . . careful around me, as if he was afraid that Sylar would take back control at any moment. I was of the same thoughts, although I was the one feeling that psychopath's anger as it lashed out at my entire body.

Pete opened the door and allowed me to go through it first, closing after he too had stepped outside. We had come to a rooftop and at first I didn't recognize it until my gaze fell to the metal sides that helped to round the edges of the building. This had been where he had taken me to confess to flying three years ago.

"You remember the last time we were up here?" Peter's voice surprised me, having been off in my own memory of the rooftop.

I blinked, then swallowed before I answered. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." My eyes turned to him as he watched me, still with that cautious look in his hazel eyes. "You were standing on that edge right there, like an idiot." He gaze a quick laugh, recalling what I knew must have seemed like a lifetime ago event. "Asking me about Dad's depression. Asking me if I could fly."

"Remember what you said?" Peter seemed to want to push me, challenge my memory.

"I said we could both fly," I answered as Peter turned slightly more inward to face me better.

"No, no, no. Before that."

Before that? I looked away, trying to recall what I had told him. Nothing was coming to mind though and it was disappointing to say the least.

"You denied it." Pete's smile returned slightly as I turned my eyes back to him.

I shrugged, putting off his words that I had denied the existence of my ability. The people of Building 26 hadn't known until Danko had pushed me out a window and watched me fly off. Hiding my ability wasn't that hard.

"It was an election year."

I remember that election rather well, probably due to Matt's emphasis on it. _You're now Nathan Petrelli. Son, brother, father, Senator. Nathan Petrelli. _Dropping my shoulders, I started to walk over to the edge of the roof. "Denial was the go-to." It was all I could do to grit my teeth together as Sylar lashed out at me again.

Pete walked up behind me and placed a hand on my back, his eyes sparkling with remembrance over that entire crazy year. From his own brief death at the hands of Sylar to the plan to blow up New York City, which we now stood out over, I wondered how we had made it all work.

"It seems like a million years ago, huh?" Peter asked as he placed a hand on my back.

I thought for a second, lifting my eyes to the stars as the whirl of cars on the busier streets pounded in my ears. "A lifetime."

"And we made it through it, together." He glanced over at me again as I forced myself to smile, my eyes shifting over to him. "Made it through all the craziness you and me. We can make it through anything, Nathan."

"Even death?" I asked, unsure of what he would say in response but figuring I had to find out.

"Why not?"

"Because this isn't me. It's not my body. Because it's Sylar's." I had accepted that fact already, accepted that I was nothing more than memories thrown into this psycho killer's head.

"No. It is you, Nathan. I'm looking at you." I could tell he was denying it. He didn't want to hear the truth as much as I didn't want to have him not hear it.

"You're looking at an illusion," I snapped back, focusing my eyes on his own as I struggled to make him understand.

"No, it's you." I sighed, blinking as I decided my attempt at explaining through words wasn't going anywhere. "Look, I need you to keep fighting in there. Okay?"

Pete squeezed my shoulders harder as I swallowed again, somehow speaking past the lump in my throat. "I can't." I shook my head slowly, blinking more frequently as I felt like I was caught in a raging flood and the water just kept getting higher despite my attempts to keep my chin above the water. "He's killing me and I can't hold on anymore, Pete."

"Yes, you can, Nathan." Peter reached up and placed a hand under my collar, stopping my blinking and head shaking as I focused my eyes on him. "That's why you found me. That's why you came and found me."

For a moment, I felt myself observing as I spoke. The words that came weren't mine, they were Sylar's. "I found you because I wanted to crucify you in Times Square."

Peter placed both hands on my shoulders as I fought back control, forcing Sylar back into being the observer as I focused my eyes on my brother. "Nathan, that is not you."

Pain lashed through me as I bowed forward, trying to keep my voice even as I muttered through the agony that Sylar was inflicting on me. "That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"Nathan?"

Wave after wave of anger from Sylar lashed through me as Peter caught me and turned me around, holding onto me with such force that only made Sylar more irritated. I gripped onto his shirt as every part of me struggled to not break apart in that very instant.

"Stay with me. Hey, fight it." My lungs burned as I screamed in pain, holding the full extent back. My eyes closed as I entwined my hands into his shirt, taking in his scent as I found it drove Sylar back. "Come on, I need you to fight it. I need you to fight it, Nathan." I opened my eyes, taking in a deep breath as a light coating of sweat gave my face a shimmer to it in the light from down below while Peter continued to utter words of comfort to me. "Come on, stay with me, bud. Please."

I eased myself away from him by only a step. He sighed and dropped a hand from my shoulders as I looked at him. Pete's other hand, having rested just below my ear now fell to my shoulder as I placed my right hand on his chest.

"I'm sorry Pete."

I shoved him away and ran. "Nathan!"

Using the metal covering on the edge of the building, I threw myself over it. I was falling, falling . . until Peter caught a hold of my hand and held onto it with dear life. I looked up at him to see him struggling to keep his balance and try and raise me back up.

"Pull yourself up, Nathan." He pleaded, still having trouble trying to lift me.

"Let me go, Pete."

"I can't do that." His eyes showed his strain as his hands trembled.

"You need to accept that I'm gone." My voice flowed so naturally yet I was at peace with my decision to let Sylar win once Peter couldn't hold on anymore.

"I need you to help me. Now, pull yourself up, please." One of his hands slipped and he used it to steady himself, then tried to grab for me again.

"You're gonna have to carry on for the both of us, Pete. Okay? You tell Mom I love her. You take care of Claire. You fight the good fight. You've always been everything that's good in this world, Pete." I paused for a moment, smiling softly as I realized my words were finally getting to him. I was saying my goodbye.

Tears brimmed in Pete's eyes as he looked down at me. "Nathan."

"And I got a feeling the worlds ain't seen nothing yet."

"I can't do this without you." Peter's voice was rich with emotion as more tears flooded his eyes.

"You can do anything, Pete. Anything. Remember that."

He sniffed as I looked up at him lovingly. This was hard for me too but I was dead already. The only thing left was my memories, memories that I hoped would haunt Sylar and remind him of what he had done.

"I love you." Saying those three words were hard as I remember I had spoken them exactly the same way before my death at the hands of Sylar.

"Nathan." Peter grew concerned as I let my hands lift from his wrist, his still tight around mine.

The tears now came, although they stayed near his eyes, collecting in his eyelashes as my brother found it hard to reply. I gave a brief smile of encouragement and that was all he needed.

"I love you, Nathan."

He let go and I began to drop. It felt . . . right to let him go like this. As I stretched my arms out, I allowed myself to fade. Sylar had won back what was his but he wouldn't lay another hand on my brother in the same way that he had in the past. My memories and experiences were already working on him, conflicting and changing him into a better person.

If Peter took my words to heart then he wouldn't go seeking Sylar after he had been allowed time to grieve. The last thing I wanted was my brother dead in the same way I was.

Darkness swallowed me as I faded, briefly aware of something slamming into a car. Sylar had gotten what he wanted and I was proof of it.


End file.
